Perry Mason: The Case of the Awkward Alliteration
by Xebot
Summary: "If only he weren't my ONLY client..." - Paul Drake


Perry Mason: "The Case of the Awkward Alliteration"  
by Xebot  
  
  
Chapter 1Fun with Rocko and Waifney  
  
Smedley Bumsford, nephew of the millionaire Rocko Bumsford, is alone in the study. His bony hands are clutching a telephone receiver against his bony skull. This was his hobby, eaves-dropping on his uncle's conversations. He recognized the voice of his uncle, Rocko, and his uncle's business partner, Bunko.  
  
"...listen, Bunko, I know what you've been doing--robbing me blind! I ought to call the police, right NOW!"  
  
"Hold it, Rocko, I can explain...it's not what you think..."  
  
"I know how to deal with crooks like you!"  
  
Click!  
  
Smedley placed the receiver on the hook.  
  
There was a knock at the door, downstairs. Smedley walked down to the entryway where he saw Rocko greeting his guests.  
  
Rocko was saying, "...and this is my nephew, Smedley. Smedley, this is an old friend of mine, Perry Mason, and his secretary, Della Street. Perry's here on vacation to check out the fishing. Perry, I didn't know Della was a fisherman!"  
  
Perry responded, "No, but I like to take her along with me. You never know when some rich, old fart will get bumped-off by his young, beautiful wife."  
  
Rocko continued, "Perry, there's someone else I'd like you to meet, this is my young, beautiful wife, Waifney."  
  
"It's a pleasure, Mrs. Bumsford," said Mason.  
  
Waifney replied, "I'm sure it is. But don't let ME keep you. You WERE about to leave weren't you?"  
  
"Darling," pleaded Rocko, "they just got here! I'll have the butler prepare two of the spare rooms. You MUST spend the night, Perry!"  
  
"But, butter buns!", said Waifney, sternly, "I was so hoping to spend the night alone with you! I've already promised the servants the night off! Even Smedley and Sneerya are going out for the evening!"  
  
"Don't worry about us," said Mason, "Della and I have already checked into a hotel in town. We just stopped-by to say hello. I brought along some work that Della and I will be working on most of the night."  
  
"Perry," said Della, "is a twenty-four hour-a-day lawyer." Della muttered under her breath, "...and a cheap son-of-a-bitch."  
  
"What was that?" asked Rocko.  
  
Della replied, "I said, 'he cleans his own fish.'"  
  
Rocko turned to Perry Mason. "Perry, I've been having a problem with my partner, Bunko. I think he's embezzling from our business."  
  
"That," said Perry, forcefully, "is a serious accusation. Embezzlement is a very big word. It has four syllables and two Z's right next to each other! I must warn you, Rocko--and now I'm speaking as an attorney--that you hold yourself open for a slander suit. However, I would have to consult my black rock."  
  
"Black rock?" asked Rocko.  
  
"He means," corrected Della, "his Blackstone's Law Dictionary."  
  
Smedley interrupted, "Don't I know you from somewhere, Mason?"  
  
Perry replied smugly, "Perhaps you've seen my name in the paper?"  
  
"No. I think I saw you on T.V."  
  
Perry smiled. "Then perhaps you've seen my brilliant courtroom drama, 'Perry Mason'?"  
  
"No. I think it was 'Godzilla'."  
  
"Smedley," said Rocko, "we don't talk about THAT movie."  
  
  
  
Chapter 2The late night phone call  
  
Perry Mason was sleeping peacefully in his bed, clutching tightly to his teddy bear, which was dressed in the black gown of a supreme court judge, with the addition of leather panties.  
  
The phone rang.  
  
Perry grabbed instinctively for the receiver, but held back for the second ring. He thought to himself, "Never answer the phone on the first ring! It could be Hollywood. You don't want them to think that you're too eager! Better to act stand-offish before you lick their boots. That way you can still respect yourself."  
  
Perry answered the phone, still groggy. "Hello?"  
  
"Hello, Perry? This is Waifney Bumsford. Something awful's happened!"  
  
"Who? Is this Hollywood? NO! I won't do it! Not for a million dollars!!! I'm NOT going to do Godzilla 3!!! Ah, How much are you paying?"  
  
"Perry, this is Waifney Bumsford! My husband's dead!"  
  
  
  
Chapter 3Someone has to die, why not him?  
  
Perry and Della arrived at the Bumsford mansion. There was a squad of police cars out front. The chief investigating officer was Lt. Tragg.  
  
Tragg spoke, "Well, well, if it ain't the great Perry Mason! How come everywhere you go there's a murder? Why don't you take a vacation so some poor fellow can live a few days longer?!"  
  
"I AM on vacation, Tragg."  
  
"Even when you're on vacation people seem to drop dead all around you! This country doesn't know what a great asset it has in you, Perry! In case of war with Russia, we'll just make you the ambassador to Moscow!"  
  
"Don't be a drag, Tragg. I'm here because of an urgent call from a very frightened woman--she said that Rocko Bumsford was dead."  
  
Tragg spoke mockingly, "Oh, really? Us poor, hard-working detectives are always the last to know! But, it's no surprise--because Waifney is the one who murdered him!"   
  
"That remains to be settled in a court of law, Tragg. How did he die--and what makes you believe that Waifney Bumsford had anything to do with it?"  
  
"He died an agonizing death, one of the most cruel methods I've seen in twenty-eight years of police work. You see, Rocko was fond of listening to Beethoven while he drifted off into dreamland. He even had a special set of headphones designed. Tonight, somebody made a substitution."  
  
Perry asked, "The old poisoned-needle-in-the-headphones trick?"  
  
"Worse than that, Perry. Someone had re-recorded over the second side of Beethoven with 'The Greatest Hits of Tony Orlando and Dawn'! I doubt he survived more than one chorus of 'Tie A Yellow Ribbon' -- although the coroner will have to determine that."  
  
"That's a horrible way to go, Tragg. But, what's the evidence against Waifney?"  
  
"She was alone in the house with the deceased--and, after searching the safe, I discovered a copy of Rocko's will, dated today, that makes Waifney the sole heir to his millions!"  
  
"That's still only circumstantial, Tragg."  
  
"Give us time. Give us time."  
  
"Della?" asked Perry. "I think we're going to need Paul Drake."  
  
"He's on his way, Perry."  
  
"How did you manage that?" asked Perry.  
  
"The only time you ever wake me up at four-in-the-morning is because someone's been murdered--it sure ain't for sex!"  
  
  
  
Chapter 4In the dark, stinky jail  
  
Perry is alone with Waifney Bumsford in the dark, stinky jail. He tries to comfort her.  
  
"This is sure a dark, stinky jail! How do you stand it? I'd have cut my wrist by now!"  
  
"Perry, I didn't kill my husband. I love Rocko. He was the best thing that ever happened to me!"  
  
"Ever had a beer enema? Now, THAT'S fun!"  
  
"I'm serious, Perry. I want you to defend me."  
  
"Got any change?"  
  
"No, they took my purse when they brought me here."  
  
"Got a cigarette?"  
  
"Sure, here, take one of these."  
  
"We'll just call this my retainer," said Perry, smiling.  
  
"Perry, you're such a doll. You're the only friend I have!"  
  
"Of course, you still owe me $250,000...but we'll talk about that later. The police know about the will."  
  
"Honest, Perry, Rocko never told me he was leaving me all his money!"  
  
"That's not what I'm talking about. The police have determined that the will is a forgery! You're the only one who stood to benefit from the new provisions. Tell me the truth, did Rocko ever mention ANYTHING about his will to you?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Do you know what happens to little girls who lie to their attorney? They get BIG, FAT legal bills! And, they usually fry like spam in the electric chair."  
  
"I'm telling you the truth, Perry!"  
  
"That's OK, Waifney, I believe you--I don't know who the heck else will, but I believe you!"  
  
  
  
Chapter 5Perry gets nowhere, fast  
  
Perry is talking to his ace private-eye, Paul Drake, outside the Bumsford mansion.  
  
Perry asked, "Nice place, huh, Paul?"  
  
"I'd hate to even pay the WATER bills on this place!" said Paul Drake.  
  
"Of course not, Paul, you're just a detective."  
  
Paul whispered under his breath, "...smug shit."  
  
"What's that, Paul?"  
  
"I said 'I bit my lip'!"  
  
"Let me make it better!"  
  
"Don't pull that shit on ME, Perry!"  
  
"Loosen up, Paul. We've got work to do."  
  
Paul thinks to himself, "...if only HE weren't my ONLY client..."  
  
Perry rings the doorbell of the Bumsford Mansion. The butler answers.  
  
The butler spoke curtly, "Hello. Whom shall I say is calling?"  
  
"My name is Perry Mason and this is Paul Drake."  
  
"Are you expected, sir?"  
  
"No. This is just a social call. I'm looking to pin a murder on somebody."  
  
"Come right in, sir."  
  
Paul joked, "Do you suppose the butler did it, Perry? Ha, Ha!"  
  
"Don't laugh, Paul. I remember a case where the butler did actually commit the murder. He got the electric chair."  
  
Paul replied, "Why? Did YOU defend him?"  
  
"Stow it, Paul. Here comes Ms. Bouncing Butts, 1968."  
  
Sneerya, wife of Smedley Bumsford, the nephew of the deceased, entered the room. She spoke smugly, "So what do we owe the honor of this visit, Mr. Mason?"  
  
"I'm here to clear up a few details about the night of the murder, Ms. Bumsford. This is my associate, Paul Drake."  
  
"Please, call me Sneerya, it's more romantic."  
  
Paul muttered under his breath, "...as romantic as a three-day-old fish!"  
  
"What was that, Mr. Drake?" queried Sneerya.  
  
"I said, 'I've got a cold like a son-of-a-bitch!'"  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that. OH! Here comes my poor, poor, pitiful husband, Smedley! Smedley, this is Mr. Mason and Mr. Drake."  
  
Smedley smirked.  
  
Mason spoke, "What do you two know about the murder of Rocko Bumsford?"  
  
"Nothing!" said Sneerya. "We weren't even home that night. That greedy, little murderess, Waifney, forced us to go out that night so she could be alone to murder the dear, old man."  
  
"Isn't it true," countered Mason, "that anyone could have copied that hellish music onto the flip side of Beethoven--that is, anyone who was in the house that night. You were BOTH here that night, weren't you?"  
  
Sneerya snorted, "I would beg you good day, Mr. Mason."  
  
  
  
Chapter 6Perry eats the big one  
  
The courtroom is in session. Perry Mason is stuffing his face from a smorgasborg laid across his table that would have been the envy of both Nero and Roseanne Barr. The district attorney, Hamilton Burger, is calling his first witness. "Your honor, I would like to call Lt. Tragg to the stand."  
  
"Lt. Tragg will take the stand," said the judge.  
  
Hamilton Burger asked, "Lt. Tragg, will you describe the means by which the deceased was murdered by the pre-meditated, cold-blooded, greedy hands of this sleazy bitch!"  
  
Tragg answered, "If you're asking what killed the old fart, he was BORED to death."  
  
"And what caused you to suspect the defendant?"  
  
"Well, she was alone in the house with the deceased; we found a last will and testament making the defendant the sole heir of her husband's millions--though this later turned out to be a forgery."  
  
"A forgery? Well, lieutenant, who could possibly benefit from both the death of the deceased and the forged will--ASSUMING the forgery were not detected?"  
  
Mason jumped into the air. "Objection! ASSUMING makes an ASS out of YOU and ME, your honor!"  
  
The judge countered, "I will not be made an ass, Mr. Mason. The witness will answer the question."  
  
"Well, the only one to benefit would be Waifney Bumsford, the defendant."  
  
"Cross-examine, Mr. Mason?" asked Burger.  
  
"No questions." said Perry.  
  
The courtroom muttered to itself in surprise.  
  
Burger continued, "The prosecution will call Jeremy Blarney."  
  
"Jeremy Blarney will take the stand."  
  
"Now, Mr. Blarney, will you state your occupation, please?"  
  
"I be workin' at Lowdown Records. I'm a sales clerk, I am."  
  
The judge interjected, "Mr. Blarney, the court would appreciate it if you could drop that fuckin' Irish accent."  
  
"No sweat, Sherlock!"  
  
Burger continued, "Now I ask you, on the night in question, did you see the defendant in your record shop?"  
  
"I think so. Yes. It was her. How many women wear their hair like that bitch on 'The Simpsons'? She bought 'The Greatest Hits of Tony Orlando and Dawn.'"  
  
"How is it that you recall the purchase. You must have several dozen customers each day?"  
  
"I remember it because 'The Greatest Hits of Tony Orlando and Dawn' is just a forty-five. We don't sell many forty-fives."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Blarney. Your honor, I would like to introduce into evidence a credit card receipt bearing the credit card number of the defendant."  
  
"Mr. Burger," said the judge, "have you had a handwriting expert analyze the signature on the receipt?"  
  
Mason jumped up, waving an open bag of potato-chips in the air, "Objection, your honor, that was MY question! I would've asked that! It's not FAIR!"  
  
"Sit down, Mr. Mason," ordered the judge, "you're dropping potato-chips all over the courtroom floor. Well, Mr. Burger?"  
  
"Well, your honor, the handwriting is so different from the defendant's that it's impossible to tell whether it's a forgery or a deliberate attempt by the defendant to disguise her handwriting!"  
  
The judge turned to look at Perry, entreating a reply.  
  
Perry stuffed a huge slice of turkey into his mouth and responded. "Fo fessions, fonner."  
  
"What was that, Mr. Mason?"  
  
Perry swallowed. "No questions, your honor."  
  
Burger stated, "The prosecution would like to introduce into evidence the following love letters, written by a Mr. Brock LeRock, addressed to the defendant, and found in her boudoir."  
  
Perry whispered in Della's ear. "Boudoir? What's that, some kind of women's underwear? Where can I get some?"  
  
Della answered. "A boudoir is a ladies' bedroom."  
  
"Oh! The defense has no objection! Della, order two more pizzas with pepperoni, Italian sausage, and EXTRA onions! Make sure they don't skimp on the cheese and pickles."  
  
"Your honor!" cried the district attorney. "I have tried to indulge Mr. Mason and his fondness for epicurean delights--but he keeps spitting watermelon seeds at ME, and throwing chicken bones at my STAFF!"  
  
The judge spoke to Perry, "Mr. Mason, you will confine your refuse to your immediate vicinity or I'll have the bailiff remove your SNACK-TRUCK from the courtroom!"  
  
"Slorry, Slawner."  
  
"What was that, Mr. Mason?"  
  
Perry inhaled the last of his two-foot hoagy. "Sorry, your honor."  
  
"Your honor," objected the Burger, "this is an outrage!"  
  
Mason hobbled to his feet. "Your honor, that is a racy gesture!"  
  
"What?" queried the judge.  
  
Della spoke. "He means it's part of the res gestae, your honor."  
  
The judge asked, puzzled, "How in the hell is spitting at the district attorney res gestae?"  
  
"Your honor," responded Mason, "I would like to ask for a recess."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Perry answered, "My staff has just informed me that we're out of ketchup."  
  
  
  
Chapter 7Love that baby talk!  
  
Outside the courtroom, Perry Mason is being briefed by his able detective, Paul Drake.  
  
Paul Drake observed, "Well, Perry, chili with EXTRA BEANS, huh?"  
  
"How did you know, Paul?"  
  
"Believe me, Perry, I got wind of it. You mind standing back a few blocks while I light a cigarette? Well, you were right again, Perry. I got the dope on everyone. Where should I start?"  
  
"Start at the beginning, Paul."  
  
"First, and this took some digging, on the Seventh Day, God played golf and, according to his caddie, DIDN'T make par! How did you figure that one out, Perry?"  
  
"Just a lucky guess, Paul."  
  
"Secondly, there is no such person as Liberace! You were right, it's Tammy Bakker without makeup."  
  
"Keep going, Paul, but I think you'd better switch to baby-talk so the audience doesn't solve the case before I do."  
  
"You got it, Perry. Daw-waaah! Wee pooh pah, dee laaw. Pah bam, dejits beeloo-scat da waat, pooh pah. Doo-wah, doo-wah, doo-wah, doo-wah!"  
  
"Just as I thought, Paul. By the way, that's a great Ella Fitzgerald imitation!"  
  
  
  
Chapter 8Perry Mason: tough cookie!  
  
The judge speaks. "You may call your first witness, Mr. Mason."  
  
"I would like to call someone, your honor. I'd like to call the murderer of Rocko Bumsford!"  
  
"And who would that be, Mr. Mason?"  
  
"I don't know, I just said I'd LIKE TO! Einey, meiney, mighty, mo, I think I'll call Mr. Bunko!"  
  
"Mr. Bunko will take the stand."  
  
Perry Mason wobbled up to the witness stand, holding two half-eaten chili-dogs with EXTRA onions! "Wanna bite?" Perry held one of the chili-dogs to Mr. Bunko, dripping chili on his tie.  
  
"This is a fifty dollar tie, you imbecile!"  
  
"I'll buy you a new one, if you'll confess!"  
  
"Confess to what, you hairy ape! Rocko was my business partner and nothing else. We were doing great. I had no reason to kill him!"  
  
Mason moved closer to his prey. "S'pose thi thold thew that thevidence seeks thifferently?"  
  
"Mr. Mason," interposed the judge, "I think the witness could understand you better if you didn't try to speak with two hot-dogs in your face."  
  
"Thorry, thonor." Mason swallowed and continued. "Suppose I told you that I had evidence of a great crime in your past? Shall I call a witness who can prove it!?"  
  
"OK, OK! Yes, it's true. I was blackmailing Brock LeRock!"  
  
The courtroom gasped in the usual fashion.  
  
"I didn't know that!" said Mason.  
  
"You said you had evidence!"  
  
"I was referring to a darker secret in your past."  
  
"OK, I embezzled from Rocko at the same time I was blackmailing Brock!"  
  
"Really? Wow! I was talking about smoking in the high school lavoratory!"  
  
"What?"  
  
Perry spoke accusatorily, "Yes, Mr. Bunko. You were a hardened truant at the age of fourteen! Rocko must have found out...and that's why you HAD to kill him!"  
  
Mr. Bunko pleaded to the judge, "Who is this jerkoff?"  
  
The D.A. jumped to his feet. "Your honor, these wild accusations of Mr. Mason are ridiculous."  
  
"On the contrary, your honor," Mason countered, "my questions are incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial; but never ridiculous!"  
  
"That's the most intelligent thing you've said today, Mr. Mason," commented the judge.  
  
Perry Mason would not be made a fool of like THIS, so he spoke again. "I have no more questions of this witness, your honor. Could I have a mistrial, please?"  
  
"Shut up, Mason. Mr. Burger, do you have any questions?"  
  
"None, your honor."  
  
"Then call your next witness, Mr. Mason."  
  
"I'd like to call the murderer! I'd like to call him a dirty name! I'd like to put wax in his door lock--but for now I'll just call Sneerya Bumsford, niece in-law of the dead guy."  
  
"Ms. Sneerya Bumsford will take the stand."  
  
Perry glared at his new prey. He moved in for the kill.  
  
Sneerya spoke first. "Your pizza is dripping tomato sauce on my dress!"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"...And could you please move back a few miles, your onion breath is wilting my corsage!"  
  
"How apropos! But shouldn't a murderess be wearing an orchid?"  
  
"I object!" yelled Hamilton Burger.  
  
Perry interjected, "Question withdrawn. Okey, Dokey? Now, Sneerya, suppose I said that I had proof that you killed Rocko Bumsford!"  
  
"'Supposing' is not proof, Mr. Mason."  
  
"Gee, that always worked on TV!"  
  
"Maybe you should watch your reruns!"  
  
"I really do better on TV, your honor, REALLY! Can't we wheel in a video camera just to set the mood?"  
  
The judge retorted. "This is a courtroom, Mr. Mason. You'll have to survive without a script."  
  
"Then can we switch to a commercial?"  
  
"No!!!"  
  
Perry continued, "OK, Sneerya, I've hired the best detective in the world to check into your background and I've got the poop on you!"  
  
"...and tomato sauce on a designer original! OK, let's compare notes. I've had two lesbian affairs, I murdered my father, and I always cheat at monopoly."  
  
"I knew that."  
  
The judge interrupted. "Call your next witness, Mr. Mason...that is, if Mr. Burger has no cross-examination."  
  
"None, your honor. Mr. Mason is only helping my case!"  
  
"Your honor," continued Mason, "in view of the fact that we are NOT on TV, I would like to call the REAL MURDERER! I'd like to call the murderer ... a dirty name!"  
  
"Mr. Mason, you WILL respect the decorum of this court!"  
  
"I will call the ALLEGED lover of Waifney Bumsford, Brock LeRock."  
  
"Mr. Brock LeRock will take the stand."  
  
Perry began, "Now, Brock, I must remind you that you are under oath. You are sworn to tell the truth, get it? OK."  
  
Perry began his famous tactic of rapid-fire questioning, attempting to lower the witness' guard by a barrage perfectly aimed, insightful questions. "Now, Mr. LeRock, just sit back and try to respond to each question as best as you can. Ready? OK. How high is up? How many S's are in Mississippi? What's the capital of Idaho? Who wrote 'Melancholy Baby'? What color panties am I wearing? Where's Jimmy Hoffa? Who will co-star in 'Rocky XXXII'? Where do babies come from?"  
  
"Arrrgh! I can't stand it! I confess! Smedley made me do it! He made me write those phoney love letters to Waifney! But I didn't kill Rocko!"  
  
"Cross your heart and hope to die?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"No further questions. I'd like to call Smedley Bumsford."  
  
"Smedley bumsford will take the stand."  
  
"Now, Smedley, would you tell this court what you were doing on the night of January 4, 1938?"  
  
"I wasn't born, you idiot!"  
  
Perry stated, "So you have no recollection of that date! Yet you remember clearly what you were doing on the night of the murder!"  
  
"This is inane!"  
  
"Inane? Or, is the word INSANE? INSANE with lust for your uncle's millions, which you knew would never be yours because he changed his will on the night of the murder! But, YOU found out and substituted a forged copy of his will, in a mad attempt to frame Waifney Bumsford! You then had your wife, Sneerya, impersonate Waifney and purchase the hellish tape with my client's credit card! Isn't that true Smedley!?"  
  
Smedley screamed, "Yes, YES! I did it! I recorded over the second side of Beethoven with that music from HELL! I did it! I killed ROCKO BUMSFORD!"  
  
Mason turned towards the jury.  
  
"But it WASN'T YOU, SMEDLEY! Nice try, though, and not a bad performance. It was MR. BUNKO who killed his business partner to keep his embezzlement a secret!"  
  
"No," said Smedley, "I did it! I DID IT!!!"  
  
"Then it was Sneerya! She used her powers of mental telepathy to rip Rocko's skull to PIECES--with the help of Jabba-the-Hut, from a galaxy far, far away!"  
  
"Mr. Mason," interrupted the judge, "I think you're getting a bit far afield. Smedley Bumsford has confessed and I believe him."  
  
"No!" Continued Perry. "It wasn't Sneerya, it was the BAILIFF! They were brothers separated at birth, who met two years ago in a gay bar, and began an incestuous, homosexual relationship! Until jealousy raised its ugly head!"  
  
The judge said firmly, "Mr. Mason, I think we're through here. I'm going to acquit your client."  
  
Perry pleaded, "No! Don't do that! It was MY CLIENT WHO DID IT!!!"  
  
"This court is adjourned."  
  
Della approached Perry after the trial. "Perry, you've done it again! You've won!"  
  
"I won?" asked Mason.  
  
"Yes, your client has been acquitted! Your record is still perfect!"  
  
"Well, Della, as I've always said..."  
  
"Sorry to interrupt, Perry," said Della, "but Paul and I are going to a motel."  
  
Perry watched as Della and Paul left. When they were gone, he turned to the empty jury box, hoping to find a camera lens to speak to. Failing in that, he spoke to a half-eaten cheeseburger:  
  
"The murder of Rocko Brumsford, and to some extent, that of John F. Kennedy, were probably the most terrible moments in the history of our country. Yet circumstances have placed you in the position where not only have you seen the hidden evidence, such as the Zapruder film of Sneerya's lesbian encounter, but you are actually going to have the opportunity to bring justice into the picture for the first time.   
  
"Now, you pickles and lettuce are here sitting in judgment of Clay Shaw -- uh, I mean cole-slaw. You represent, in a sense, the hope of humanity against government power.  
  
"I suggest that you 'ask not what your country can do for you, but what you vegetables, patties, and buns can do for your country.' What can you do for your country? You can cause justice to happen for the first time in this matter.   
  
"The law is only as just as 'the Just' is law. A dog is only a friend as your friend is a 'dog'. Your girlfriend may be a dog, but if your dog is your girlfriend ... don't tell anybody. Thank you."  
  
  
THE END.  
  



End file.
